


Listen

by lightningwaltz



Category: Messiah Project - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, M/M, They are all so dumb, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 05:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5079904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningwaltz/pseuds/lightningwaltz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Does this make me your house-husband? Your house-messiah?”</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>“You’re something good, at least.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Listen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Findarato](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findarato/gifts).



These days it’s not so easy to sleep without Shuusuke nearby. Whenever he's away , Souma tends to aimlessly soar between foggy alertness and skin-deep dozing. His mind wanders to all the different corners of the room, measuring the length of its walls. There’s a great deal of emptiness between their sparse amount of personal objects, and sometimes he imagines he hears his own thoughts echoing.

As habits go, this isn’t a great one. There’s an invisible countdown, leading them right to graduation. Right to separation. He’s going to have to remember how a person sleeps on their own.

But when the door swings open, it sounds like _not yet. You don’t have to deal with that tonight._

Shuusuke wanders in, light on his feet as ever. They have him doing some sort of data analysis project that often stretches out late into the night. Whenever Shuusuke works he does so in his full Sakura uniform. Clearly, he was never the type to go to college courses in PJs. If he ever attended online lectures, he probably wore a suit and tie. The thought makes Souma smile all the way to his toes. 

He watches Shuusuke blink, adjusting to the dark. “Sorry to wake you.” 

“You didn’t.” Souma pats the empty space beside him. Their beds are small, but there’s always room for two. “Get over here.” _If you want._

Shuusuke gives Souma an evaluating sort of look. And then; “just a second, please.” 

Souma likes to watch Shuusuke’s hands, whenever he’s peeling off the Sakura coat. Sure, the others get to see his messiah in casual outfits (by certain standards of “casual”), but no one gets to watch Shuusuke switch between roles. Someday, there will be others that experience this; Souma isn’t expecting celibacy for either of them when they graduate. But that is an issue that belongs to the indeterminate future. For now, they have a space that belongs to the two of them. A space they create through their words and bodies.

Shuusuke’s clothes underneath are dark, functional, and, save for his boxers, nearly all of them come off, too. There’s an intimation of a smirk aimed his way, and it sets fire to Souma’s imagination. It makes him into the bare and vulnerable one, rather than his messiah.

Shuusuke getting into bed is as lissome as the rest of his movements. His glasses click when he places on the bedside table, right next to his alphabetically sorted pile of books. He’s probably expecting to be held- and that’s definitely in the cards- but for the moment Souma is most interested in Shuusuke’s hands. He massage the palms between his fingers, slow and deep. 

“Ohhhh.” A little sigh of pleasure frees itself from Shuusuke’s mouth, and for some reason he looks sheepish about this. 

“I had a feeling you were typing a lot.” 

“Yes, Souma, you are a genius.” There’s no bite to Shuusuke’s words at all.

Now, Souma pulls Shuusuke closer, and he finds his ways to the expanse between his neck and shoulders. 

“Probably hunched over a computer too, yeah?” 

Shuusuke’s knee bumps in Souma’s thigh, likely on purpose. “My posture is fine,” he says, but he acquiesces to the rhythmic kneading of his skin. He even goes 'hmmmm' in a tuneless sort of way, and all his limbs relax. “You’re talented at this. I do like coming home to you.” 

_Home._ That’s a dangerous idea, too. But the two of them have earned it. “Does this make me your house-husband? Your house-messiah?”

“You’re something good, at least.” Most don't get this, either; hearing Shuusuke flirt. 

It can get a little hard to breathe, in moments like this. It robs Souma of most of his speech, and he’s never been the most eloquent sort to begin with. He blows out a sustained breath, feeling it hiss between his teeth. He nudges Shuusuke onto his back. 

“Let me know when to stop, okay?” he says, very quiet and liking the sound of Shuusuke’s breath hitching a little. 

“Yes. Alright.”

His lips find Shuusuke’s face, lingering over his forehead, cheeks, the hollow of his chin. He makes his way to Shuusuke’s ears, dragging his teeth over his temples. Everywhere but Shuusuke’s lips. He keeps his touch deliberately light, agonizingly gentle, even when Shuusuke’s fingers splay across Souma's chest and dig into his t-shirt. 

He stokes Shuusuke’s hair over and over, until he grabs on with care and confidence, tilting his head back to expose much more of that neck. Even after that, he kisses Shuusuke’s throat in such a way that it won’t leave any sort of mark. He hears a gasping sound that probably means that Shuusuke can barely feel it. Which means Shuusuke’s feeling it _everywhere_.

Though they are postponing sex for some undetermined date, Souma has discovered that there’s a strange erotic charge to be found in waiting, delaying. It makes every action novel and uncharted, and almost unbearably exciting. His tongue darts out to gently trace the curve of Shuusuke’s collarbones- the shape of which he has memorized by now- and it tastes completely new. 

Shuusuke reaches under Souma’s shirt, scratching indiscriminately at his hips and lower back. 

“You doing okay, there?” Souma moves down, liking the way his lips feel against Shuusuke’s breastbone. It’s hard to keep from laughing. He’s probably grinning like an idiot. 

“I’m not about to tell you to stop, if that’s what you’re insinuating.” Shuusuke’s lower body rocks against Souma’s, until he seems to regain a measure of self-control and stop. “You aren’t doing much of anything after all.” 

It would be fine if it happened this way, Souma realizes. A unhurried, un-examined slide into what anyone would consider sex. A few stolen hours of bliss before going back to work. It fits them. But it would also be okay if he just kissed Shuusuke everywhere, until they fell asleep. He’s done this before, after all. Many times, by now. Shuusuke has done the same to him (though he tends to be rougher about it all.)

“So, if I just did this forever, you’d be fine?” His tongue presses against Shuusuke’s nipple- leisurely, of course- while his thumb takes care of the other. 

“No, I don’t think I could handle being tormented like this forever.”

In combat, Shuusuke spins and twists and evades. Sometimes he seems more like a dancer than any kind of soldier. The column of his body is like that now, arching and bending, winding this way and that. Always finding his way back to the hands and mouth that must drive him crazy. 

“Should I keep going down?” Sometimes it’s still necessary to ask. Shuusuke’s eyes widen, but then he murmurs his assent. 

Not that Souma accelerates his pace. He still having fun being a tease. He licks around Shuusuke’s navel (and no lower), his tongue tracing meaningless patterns. He holds onto his partner’s waist. Holding him down, to minimize his movements, no matter how much Shuusuke hits Souma’s shoulders in frustration. 

But then Shuusuke goes very still, his head tilted to the side. The tenor of his body language changes, utterly. 

“Souma,” he says, and he still has to swallow to get that out. “Do you hear that, too?” 

Loud voices waft in from Eiri and Haku’s room, but that’s far from unusual. Souma winces at this reminder that the walls are thin. He’s long since decided that there are two possible reasons for this. It makes it difficult for cadets to conspire in treasonous activity (many of them have good reason to hate Sakura, after all.) It’s also possible that their superiors don’t give a damn for their comfort. 

“I can be quiet if you can,” he says, at last. 

“No, it’s not that.” Shuusuke’s fingers tap against Souma’s lips. “Listen.” 

Souma does as requested, and each passing moment brings him closer to a horrible kind of clarity. First he hears the recurrent thumping, that matches the beating of his own overly excited heart. Even worse, Eiri starts moaning up a storm, and that destroys any remaining ambiguity. It’s like Souma’s been tossed into a cold shower. 

“Oh my god.” He buries his face in Shuusuke’s torso, and he distantly notes how it’s gone from being a source of desire to being a source of comfort. “Why? _Why?_ ”

Shuusuke actually pats him on the back.

They’ve heard Haku and Eiri having sex before this. The first time, Shuusuke had actually started fretting about whether Eiri was healed enough to be messing around with that. That had been endearing enough that Souma almost forgot his embarrassment, in the moment. They’d since discerned the usual pattern for their friends; in the afternoon. No missions planned for the following day. Often whenever Eiri is being especially feisty in the morning. Souma usually leaves the room whenever it happens, but when that isn’t possible… Well, at least he knows when to expect it. 

_Thought_ he knew. 

“Seriously, though. The night time was supposed to be _safe._.” He has to raise his voice to be heard over all the noise from next door. 

Inexplicably, Shuusuke start cracking up, but it’s the kind of laughter someone does after stumbling awkwardly on the ice for a few long seconds. 

“It’s interesting that they feel comfortable enough to have sex with each other, actually,” Shuusuke starts musing, once his laughter relaxes into intermittent giggling. “Especially since they aren’t particularly good at verbal communication still.” 

Still huddled against Shuusuke’s chest, Souma turns his head to face away from the wall. “It might be the best way they’ve found to connect? When they’re not in a life or death situation it’s probably hard for them to say ‘oh, hey, I actually do like you!’ Sex can be easier way to show that in some ways.” 

Next door, Eiri gets even _louder_ somehow, and Souma imagines sinking down into the depths of earth. Right down into hell.

“Ugh, I can’t believe I’m speculating on this. Hit me, or kill me, or something.” He looks up, and Shuusuke is staring up at the ceiling. Not looking especially bothered. He even starts smoothing Souma’s hair. Playing with his bangs, freed, as they are, from the usual headband. “Wait a second. You used to hate all the commotion they cause in the morning. Why isn’t _this_ getting to you?”

Shuusuke shrugs. “It’s not as though I’m thrilled, Souma. However, it’s a pretty different sound from his usual yelling.”

“How so?” 

“It’s sort of lower in his throat, like…” Shuusuke’s cheeks tinge pink, and not from pleasure. “No, I’m not going to demonstrate. Essentially, it’s loud, yes, but it’s not nearly as piercing as Eiri’s usual shouting. So I can live with it.” 

Souma covers his face with his hand. “Ew.” 

“You asked,” Shuusuke says, still preternaturally unapologetic. 

They lay in silence, prone bodies locked together, and the uproar dies down a little. Souma takes no comfort in that development, however. Eiri starts groaning Haku’s name, and there’s no fury in his voice at all. Just a naked sort of tenderness that says more than fully formed sentences. Souma is happy that Haku gets to experience that sort of affection. Souma is horrified because he’s hearing something not meant for him at all.

“Nope, _Nope._. I can’t do this, sorry. I’m going to sit out in the foyer for a bit, and just… contemplate my life choices.” He rolls off Shuusuke, stumbling a little when he lands on the floor. 

“Fine. I’ll go with you. Just let me get some clothes on.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“No, but I want to.” 

Outside of their room, the hallways lights are almost obscenely bright. Souma rubs at his forehead all the way to the foyer area. Once there, he almost throws himself onto the couch. Shuusuke sits down next to him, in a more sedate way. The glasses are back on, and he’s brought a book with him. Something that claimed to be a study of the geopolitical landscape of Asia in the past ten years. _What the hell, Shuusuke?_ His light reading choices were fascinating. 

“Should we tell them?” he asks, settling back into his seat. 

“What? That we’ve been able to hear them all this time?” Souma imagines broaching _that_ particular topic in the Chinese restaurant. It’s a little too easy to imagine Eiri upending a plate of dumplings. Haku would probably watch in muted interest. Absolutely nothing would be accomplished. “Yeah I’m sure that would go really well.” 

Shuusuke has the book opened up on his lap. “True. It might be humiliating to learn that, wouldn’t it?” 

“Yeah.” Souma closes his eyes, and rests his head on the back of the couch. “Oh well. The next time Eiri comes to us to complain about how much he hates Haku, I’m laughing right in his face.” 

“No you won’t.” 

“Yes, I _will_.” 

Strangely companionable silence, save for the gentle swishing sound of Shuusuke turning some pages. They’re in the same basic location where they had failed to share a bottle of wine. Embarrassed or not, Souma still makes note of the entirely different context. Sometimes things change for the better in increments, and life moves so quickly you fail to appreciate improvements and happiness. At least Souma gets this moment to pause and reflect. 

“Hey, can you read to me from that really un-sexy sounding book? I think it will help me sleep.” 

Shuusuke smacks Souma in the side with his reading material. “Okay,” he says, as if that had never happened. “I’m going to start in the middle of this paragraph, though, because you’re being rude.”

“Works for me.” He lets his head fall onto Shuusuke’s shoulder. It’s as slender as the rest of him, but it still supports Souma. He can rest this way, too.

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write something short and relatively fluffy, okay.


End file.
